


Love, Persevering.

by snarkyvamp



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), WandaVision (TV)
Genre: Agatha Harkness has my entire heart, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Apologies, Awkward Flirting, Bonding, Canonical Character Death, Chronic Pain, Dreams, Dreamsharing, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Fluff, F/F, First Dates, First Kiss, Fix-It, Fluff, Forgiveness, Friends to Enemies, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, I know it doesn't sound fluffy but trust me dude, I'm taking a leaf out of wanda's book with this, Learning Magic, Magic, Memories, Misunderstandings, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Romance, Slow Burn, Tags Are Hard, Telepathy, Wanda Maximoff is a bisexual, Wanda has chronic pain because I have it and I said so, no i will not be taking criticism, now, reality can be what I want it to be
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:20:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29950584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkyvamp/pseuds/snarkyvamp
Summary: I'll always be here for you,'Wanda paused, and looked up from where she was being supported just above the floor.Only it wasn't the nosy but cheerful Agnes looking back at her.It was Agatha Harkness.She was wearing the black dress and purple robes that Wanda had last seen her- the real her- in, before she had been trapped within her own mind. Her hair was no longer in a fashionable, 50's bob, but hung loose and wild about her shoulders. She was looking down at Wanda with a sad smile.'And you know where to find me.'
Relationships: Agatha Harkness/Wanda Maximoff
Comments: 60
Kudos: 190





	1. So Long and Good Night.

Wanda left Westview.

Once the hex had closed in on itself. She couldn't bear to stay. Not with what she had done to its citizens for so long, and not with her family gone in a flash of red light, with not even a photograph to honour them. All that was left was the angry mob. 

It seemed as though Wanda couldn't help but leave those in her wake, from here to Lagos, no matter her intentions. She kept her eyes down as she passed them, not willing to cause anyone more pain than had already been inflicted. She eyed the military vehicles on her way, though. Souvenirs from S.W.O.R.D. 

She would leave them where they were, however. Enough damage had been done, and Wanda had a feeling that Monica Rambeau could deal with them, as well as the F.B.I. Not that she thought that they would, however. She didn't have much faith left in government agencies, not anymore.

As she opened her hands, allowing scarlet clouds of magic to propel her upwards and into the air, she caught sight of her. Walking down the street, with a smile on her face. Agatha Harkness, or rather, Agnes. As she was now. Trapped in her own mind, with her body reading off of a different script. It was cruel, she knew, but the safest option. For everyone involved.

However, Wanda still felt conflicted about it. She was the closest thing she had had to a friend while she was pretending to be Agnes. In fact, apart from Vision, she was the closest thing Wanda had had to a friend in a long, long while. And she was the only other person whom she had encountered who knew of Wanda's power, and possessed some of her own. Of course, she had studied and practiced her spells and runes to learn how to cast them properly, whereas Wanda hadn't even known that she was casting spells, let alone what a rune was. 

But she knew, as Agatha turned a corner on the street, that this was for the best. For now, at least. Besides, she was sure that with enough time, she could find others like them who could teach her more. She had to.

Finally, the Scarlet Witch turned her eyes from the street and looked ahead of her, into the distance. After a moment's hesitation, she flew forward towards the horizon. She had to leave all of this behind her, for everyone's sake.

As she flew, held aloft by the magic that coursed through her, she tried not to look back down. She couldn't handle seeing all the places where she and Vision, and later them and their children, the twins, had visited. Where they had laughed, where they had hugged, where they had simply existed. It was wonderful. But it hadn't been real. It was all just an illusion, puppeteered semi-subconsciously by her grief. 

Wanda balled her hands into fists until the skin over her knuckles was stretched tightly against the bones. The pressure caused her knuckles to turn stark white, and her fingernails dug crescent moons into her palms until they stung. She didn't care.

She flew higher through the air, picking up speed until she had passed the sign that declared, "You Are Leaving Westview," and then she continued on over the road and passing cars until she couldn't even see the sign when she turned, just to be safe. Once it was invisible to her, she allowed herself to descend to the ground slowly, until she landed on the grass next to the hard shoulder. Her knees hit the grass gently and the hood of her cape fell from her head as she sat, with her hands resting on her knees. She stared silently, and expressionless at the ground until it happened. 

The first tear fell. And then another. One by one, they fell like a waterfall, until they became a cascade. Soon, she was sobbing. The sobs wracked her body until her shoulders shook violently, and she all but curled in on herself.

Behind her eyes memories of Vision, Billy and Tommy swam through her brain, taunting her. And for every happy one of her family that she revisited, the knowledge of those whom she had hurt in the process only seared itself into her brain. Vision was dead, and yet they had lived happily. Billy and Tommy had never truly existed, but she had given birth to them.

It was all too much.

Wanda screamed. 

With tears streaming down her reddened cheeks, she let out the most heartbreaking cry that anybody in the surrounding areas would hear. She beat her hands against the earth and pulled up fists of grass until her hands were red raw and muddied by dirt, and wailed in agony until her voice was hoarse. She couldn't breathe. It was as though her lungs were collapsing from within, imploding on themselves from all of the pressure. She allowed herself to fall to the grass and lie on her side, hugging her knees to her chest.

She had nothing. Again.

No husband. No children. No brother. No friends. It was clear that, while Monica claimed to sympathise and understand why Wanda had done what she had, she still had her reservations. And really, who could blame her? She had been a victim to Wanda playing pretend, too. The woman knew better than to expect forgiveness from her any time soon.

She didn't know how long she had laid there, but the sun had begun to set. Eventually, her sobbing had turned to a small stream of tears, and her hyperventilating had calmed to long gasps. She could hear Vision in her head, coaching her breathing, helping her even now.

**Hee-hee, hoo, hee-hee, hoo…**

After one last, long gasp for breath, Wanda stood on shaking legs. She couldn't linger on the outskirts of her former fantasy forever.

Scarlet tendrils of magic emerged from within her, like static electricity, and swept the grass and dirt from her hair and body. Then, she shot upwards into the air. The wind that rushed around her grounding her more and more in the reality of the moment as she stared towards the horizon, and the city skyline that awaited. Wanda felt numbed over. She had run out of tears, and was far too drained, physically and emotionally, to feel much else. So, after checking below that nobody was paying attention to her, or chasing after her, she put her arms out in front of her in the way that she had often seen Vision do when he flew, and she flew forwards.

Soon, she was leaving New Jersey in the past, and was heading back towards New York. She didn't know where else to go, but right now, above all else, she needed to get out of the suburbs, and she needed to sleep. From there, she would figure out what to do. She hoped.

She travelled in silence, constantly scanning her surroundings for the slightest sign of trouble, or of the government having changed their mind about letting her go. She was, however, relieved to see no problems. All she saw below her was a world of people, filled with the hustle and bustle of their daily lives. 

None of them were aware of the Scarlet Witch of prophecy that shot through the windy skies above them. None of them were aware of what she had done. Of how the people of Westview had suffered, all so that she could play at pretend to cope with the crushing weight of her grief and anger. What else could she do? She had been hopeless, and nobody had offered a hand to help her.

Well, Agatha had. But she had gone about it wrong. She had tried to force Wanda to face the reality of the fantasy that she had created, and of the pain that it had inflicted on those whom she had held captive to fuel it. She had tried to take the power that Wanda couldn't control, when it was all that she had left to help her.

But the Avengers? None of them cared, it seemed, about her, or the people of Westview. If the government knew about what was going on, then it stood to reason that those so proclaimed heroes, with their many powers and influential connections, should have known. But if they did, they made no moves to intervene. They left S.W.O.R.D and its power-hungry leader to save the town and imprison or weaponise their former teammate. 

**They never liked me, anyway,** Wanda thought to herself.

And she had no reason to think otherwise. After all, when they weren't using her to fight Hydra, Ultron, Thanos, or each other, they feared and misunderstood or resented her. Tony Stark had even seen fit to lock her up in his technological tower, not to keep her safe from the accusing eyes and fear of the public and press or the bloodthirsty government organisations of the world, but to keep the world safe from her. Even Vision, her then jailer, had misunderstood her in the beginning, simply on the say so of his creator.

Wanda was thankful for the wind that rushed in her face, as she could blame it for the stray tears that flew down her cheek. She shook them from her face, and as she did, she caught sight of a small hotel just outside of the city limits.

It wasn't extravagant, by any means. It was a simple, three story building. The brick walls had been painted white, originally, but that had clearly been a long time ago. The years of being exposed to the elements had clearly taken its toll. Now, the white was decaying, turning to a dull grey, and in places had decayed enough to show the original red hue of the bricks below. Wanda knew the feeling. 

She put her hands out by her sides, and allowed her magic to slowly drag her downwards to the ground, until the soles of her shoes landed delicately on the tarmac of the hotel's car park. She walked towards the automatic doors of the hotel automatically, keeping her eyes on her feet.

All she had to do was get a room. Then, she could rest. Tomorrow, she would go back to her apartment, if she had the strength. Then, she could begin researching her powers and looking for other witches like her and Agatha.

The hotel doors slid open as she stepped towards them. When Wanda had been a little girl in Sokovia, she had thought that automatic doors were magic. Ironic, wasn't it.

The hotel lobby was warm, and brightly lit. The grey walls were decorated with miscellaneous pictures of skylines, and bridges over sparkling water. The furniture consisted of two black couches on either ends of the room, a coffee table littered with old, unread magazines, and a single, dying houseplant. The front desk by the back wall was worn, wooden, and manned by a very bored looking middle aged man. He was flicking through a newspaper with the previous day's date on it. 

Wanda's shoes tapped loudly against the tiles below her as she approached him, and he looked up from his newspaper. He took one look at her and raised an eyebrow as he put the paper down. She didn't have enough energy to care.

'Can I help you?'

Wanda nodded.

'I'd like a room, please,'

'How many nights?'

'Just the one,'

The man sighed, then stood from his chair and turned to the shelf of key cards behind him. He picked one, seemingly at random, and then turned back to her. He threw the card down on the desk between them, and reached down to take an admissions book from a drawer.

'That's gonna be $50.' 

Below the desk, out of his range of view, Wanda conjured the money to her hand. She felt slightly bad about it, but within the Westview that she had created she hadn't needed money, and the outfit that she wore didn't have any pockets.

As she handed the note over to him, though, he didn't seem to notice that it had been willed into reality. He nodded, opened the book, grabbed a pen from beside his computer, and slid both over the desk to her.

'Sign here,'

She picked the pen up and scrawled her signature down on the paper.

'You're in room nineteen. It's on the first floor. Take the door by the elevators and follow the signs,'

Wanda took the key card wordlessly, then turned, and began to walk towards the two elevators at the side of the room, and the door nestled next to them. As she did, however, she noticed something out of the corner of her eye that caught her attention. 

There, on the littered coffee table amongst the pile of gossip and beauty magazines, was a glossy cover that stood out to her.

If asked, Wanda wouldn't have been able to say what exactly was on the cover, or name any of the headlines on it. All that she saw was the name. At the top of the cover, big block capitals in a white, italicised text on a black background spelled out the word; 

_"GLAMOUROUS"_

The woman felt a twinge of sadness, from deep within her chest. She had seen a magazine by that name before. It had been in the hands of Agatha Harkness, as they both sat in Wanda's monochrome living room and read tips on how to plan for what they had thought to be an anniversary night.

She snatched up the magazine before even registering that she had done it. Perhaps it was overly sentimental or foolish of her, even, but this piece of paper was all she had left of one of the few friendships that she had ever had. Or, at least, she thought that it had been a friendship. Either way, she rolled up the paper in her hands, and turned back towards the door that she needed to take.

She pushed it open with her shoulder and began the walk down the hotel halls. Barring the occasional pause to read the signs nailed to the walls or the numbers on the doors, the walk was performed independent of her mind. Her body was on autopilot, and she was worlds away. 

Once she reached room nineteen, Wanda slipped the key card into the reader and slipped inside.

The room was dark, but she didn't need to know where the lights were to turn them on. With a simple movement of her wrist, the lights flickered to life, and the room was bathed in light. 

It was a simple room. There was one double bed against the back wall, with simple white sheets and pillowcases. On either side of the headboard were two identical tables, upon which sat two identical lamps. In the corner by the window, a coffee table was placed in between two chairs, which faced a small T.V. mounted on the wall. 

She turned her gaze away from that particular feature. Perhaps it would be best for everybody if she laid off of the T.V. for a while.

Wanda didn't bother to examine the adjoining bathroom. All that she could see was enough, and she was far too tired. She approached the bed, threw the magazine that she had been holding down on top of the covers, and stared down at the pillow on the left hand side. The side that she always slept on, because her husband had preferred the right.

The Witch reached up to the sides of her face, and carefully removed her scarlet headpiece. As she did so, a few stray locks of wavy red hair fell forwards over her face. She turned the headpiece over in her hands, examining its every detail. As she did, though, she noticed something. There, on the ring finger of her left hand, sat a silver wedding ring. Or rather, the illusion of one. 

She flinched from the sight.

Wanda placed her headpiece down on the bedside table and, after a moment's hesitation, she took the ring from her finger and placed it gently down on the table next to it. 

She had spent so long living in the past. Too long. Vision wouldn't want her to do that anymore. After the stark awakening that she had come to have, Wanda didn't want her to do it anymore, either. 

Wanda turned away from the table and lifted the duvet of the bed. By the time she hit the bed, her fashionable outfit had been magically replaced by the first, comfiest sleepwear that came to her mind; a grey tee-shirt, which was several sizes too big.

As she lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, it hit her. The pain. Not emotional, no, that had hit her a while ago. Rather, it was the physical pain that hit her. A sharp, raw ache that started in the bones of her hands and fingers, then radiated up, through her muscles and nerves and flesh before it began to spread throughout the rest of her body. 

Of course, this wasn't new pain to her. It was always there, in the background of her daily activities, no matter what it was that she was doing. It had been ever since that one, fateful day when she had come into contact with the god Loki's sceptre, and the mind stone which it held.

The power of the stone, as it tore through her body and amplified the mere ounce of power within her that it had been drawn to, in addition to the experiments that she had been subject to at the hands of Strucker after said encounter, had taken a physical toll. From that moment on, she had always been in varying amounts of physical pain.

She had just been far too distracted and unavailable to notice the level of it today until now. However, even though she had noticed it, she was still far too drained to face it. And so, she snapped her fingers.

The lights in the room all extinguished simultaneously, and Wanda closed her eyes. She sensed the wave of exhaustion approaching her, and let it hit her at full force.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I hope you've enjoyed the first chapter of my fic! Trust me, there is a lot more planned for this and I will be updating very regularly if not daily! And please leave a kudos if you enjoyed it or a comment telling me what you thought of it! Until next time, bye!


	2. A Little Dream...

_Wanda stood in her monochrome kitchen, watching through the window of the back door as Vision walked through the garden towards the car for work. She smiled to herself._

_Here she was, the luckiest woman in all of Westview. Her house was perfect, her husband was perfect, her life was just perfect. Full of love and laughter with Vision, and secure with his good job. There wasn't a detail out of place, not a picture hung crooked. Except for…_

_She turned on her heels and marched over to the vexing calendar on the kitchen wall, then cocked her head at the little heart drawn over the date. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't for the life of her remember the meaning of it, or what exactly it signified for her and Vision._

_Of course, she had been having quite a lot of memory issues lately. Like how she couldn't quite remember exactly what year it was, only the decade. Or when she and Vision had married, or where they had lived before Westview. Anything she could remember was blurred, as though she were looking at her memories through frosted glass. There was just enough detail to make out the outlines, but never the full picture. Not that any of that mattered any more. The past was dead and buried. All that was important was her future with Vision, here. Thinking too much on the finer details of before they had crossed the threshold of their wonderful home seemed to make her head hurt, anyway._

_Wanda stared down the little doodle in front of her, furrowing her brow. Something about this scenario felt familiar. As she realised this, she was pulled from her concentration by a knock at the front door._

**_That's odd,_ ** _she thought to herself as she made her way out of the kitchen and through the living room. She hadn't been expecting anyone. Yet the rhythmic knocking persisted._

_Wanda pulled open the front door, to be greeted with… a woman she had never seen before. Or rather, one who she couldn't remember seeing before. And yet something about her features appeared to be strangely familiar._

_'Oh!' The stranger exclaimed, as the door opened while she was still knocking._

_She was roughly as tall as Wanda, if not a little bit taller, with a fashionable black bob, plaid dress, and matching sensible pumps. A vibrant, lush plant was held between her pale hands, and it was tied with a large, elaborate ribbon._

_Wanda thought she was beautiful._

_The woman stepped forward over the threshold of the house._

_'Hello, dear!' She greeted warmly, with a bright smile._

_'I'm Agnes, your neighbour to the right. My right, not yours. Forgive me for not stopping by sooner to welcome you to the block. My mother-in-law was in town, so I wasn't.'_

_Wanda smiled at her, refraining from the urge to laugh at the comment about her mother-in-law, lest she seem rude or too friendly. She wanted her new, friendly neighbour to like her, and wouldn't put that at stake due to a misunderstanding. Too many people had disliked her because of simple misunderstandings, and she wasn't going to make that mistake again, no matter what._

_The next thing she knew, the potted plant was being placed in her hands, and Agnes had let herself into the living room. Her host rushed to shut the door behind her._

_'So, what's your name? Where are you from? And most importantly, how's your bridge game, hon?'_

_Agnes rattled off these questions as Wanda hurried over to join her in the centre of the room._

_'I'm Wanda,'_

_'Wanda,' her guest repeated._

_Agnes' voice was soothing, and certainly said her name in the warmest tone that she had ever heard from anyone but her dear husband in a long, long time._

_Agnes held her hand out towards her._

_'Charmed,'_

_Wanda took her hand gladly, and shook it. Her neighbour's hand was as warm as her smile or voice, and her grip was firm. She wasn't shying away out of fear, or anger, like so many before had. She wasn't greeting her reluctantly, but willingly. The whole time, she had been looking at Wanda, not through her, and not at her hands. It made the woman flustered, and as they shook hands she had to break eye contact and look somewhere, anywhere else._

_Agnes followed her eyes around the room, taking in the furniture._

_'Golly, you settled in fast! Did you use a moving company?'_

_Wanda paused, thinking of a lie. What was she supposed to say?_ **_No, I actually just summoned all of this into place in a snap, literally!_ **

_Because that would work out so well._

_She turned, and walked towards the dining table, with the plant cradled in her arms._

_'I sure did! Those boxes don't move themselves!'_

_As she placed the gift down, she cringed internally._

**_Those boxes don't move themselves? What was that?_ **

_But, to her relief, Agnes laughed. Not cruelly, not at her, she just laughed as though she found it amusing._

_Wanda happily returned to her guest, with her mind put at ease._

_The woman's eye's raked over her, as though appraising her. Eventually, they settled on her hands, at which point she raised an eyebrow, before looking back up at her host._

_'So, what's a single gal like you doing rattling around this big house?' Agnes wandered over to the couch as she spoke._

_Wanda waved a hand dismissively._

_'Oh, no, I'm not single,'_

_'Oh? I don't see a ring?'_

_Agnes sat down as she asked this._

_Wanda gazed down at her ring finger, to find it bare. That's right. She and Vision didn't have wedding rings, did they. They never had. Which was odd, wasn't it? Married couples usually had wedding rings, especially considering they were part of the ceremony, so why didn't they?_

_'Well, I assure you I'm married. To a man,' she blurted._

_She was sure her face was burning as she realised what it was that she had said. In her panic to explain, why had she said that? Of course she was married to a man! Why would Agnes have assumed she wasn't? Especially in this era. But now a different kind of panic had taken over, and she continued on, rushing through the first explanation that came to mind and doing her best to keep her composure._

_'A human one! And tall,'_

**_Why did I have to say that? What if she realises that Vision isn't human?_ **

_But her neighbour simply chuckled, as though this was some inside joke that the two were already sharing. It put Wanda at ease._

_'As a matter of fact, he'll be home later tonight for a special occasion. Just the two of us,'_

_Agnes sat up straight at this._

_'Oh! Is it somebody's birthday?'_

_Wanda faltered._

_Vision had often reminded her that he didn't have a birthday, not in the traditional sense, as he had never been born. If anything, there was the day that he had first been uploaded to and powered up in his synthezoid body, courtesy of the mind stone, but even then he had existed as an A.I. in a computer long before that. And she knew for a fact that it wasn't her own birthday for a while yet._

_'Not a birthday,'_

_'Well, today isn't a holiday, is it?'_

_Wanda began to fluster again._

_'No… it's not a holiday,'_

_'An anniversary, then?' Agnes suggested._

_'Ye- yes!' Her host exclaimed, deciding it seemed to be the most logical conclusion. 'Yes! It's our anniversary!'_

_'Oh, how marvellous!'_

_What else could the heart on the calendar have stood for? Besides, she and Vision had to have an anniversary. Wanda felt a touch of guilt for having forgotten, but even if she wasn't sure of it as she confirmed it, she had remembered, and that was what counted._

_She hurried over to join Agnes on the couch, and as she sat down her new friend held out her hands towards her. Wanda took them eagerly in her own hands, and settled them in her lap between them._

_They giggled about the anniversary together in a way that Wanda hadn't in a long, long time._

_'How many years?' Agnes asked, enthusiastically._

_'Well… it feels like we've always been together,' was what Wanda settled for._

**_Always in Westview._ **

_'Lucky gal, the only way Ralph would remember our anniversary is if there was a beer named June Second.'_

_Wanda chuckled lightly. So, Agnes was married, too. Of course she was, how could she not be? When she was so pretty and warm. Well, warm about everything but her husband, it seemed._

**_A pity,_ ** _Wanda thought, then quickly found herself explaining her own thought process._

**_A pity that she isn't in a happy marriage, not a pity that she's married._ **

_Agnes let go of her hands._

_'So, what do you have planned?'_

_'What do you mean?'_

_'For your special night!'_

**_Oh, right…_ **

_She had forgotten about that for the second time. Seemingly oblivious to Wanda's growing guilt, her neighbour continued._

_'A young thing like you doesn't have to do much, but it's still fun to set the scene!'_

_Wanda nodded wordlessly, too preoccupied with planning a scene that she could in fact set between now and when her husband returned home. It had to be something romantic, firstly, but it couldn't seem rushed. She couldn't have everything be so disorganised that he would realise that she had forgotten in the first place, when he had made it clear that he hadn't._

_'Say!' Agatha exclaimed, as though she had just conjured something to mind._

_Wanda forced her attention back to the woman as she stood from the couch and began to walk around it._

_'I was just reading a crackerjack magazine article called "How To Treat Your Husband To Keep Your Husband," and let me tell you, what Ralph could really use is "How To Goose Your Wife So You Don't Lose Your Wife.'"_

_Wanda allowed a smile to slip through at her joke this time, all the while shaking her head at Agnes in mock disapproval as she walked towards the front door._

_'Hang on, I'll go grab it and we can start planning. Oh, this is gonna be a gas!'_

_As the door closed behind Agnes, Wanda grinned to herself. She had already made a friend! Sure, she was a bit nosey, but this was the suburbs. Who wasn't? And besides, she was going to help her plan, and was enthusiastic about it, too._

_Just thinking of planning with her made the woman realise how much advice the magazine might hold, and how much input Agnes could give. She would need to make sure that she could remember it all. Holding her hands out, Wanda took a second to visualise a notepad and pencil, then watched as they were conjured to life at her fingertips. Taking notes might have seemed a bit overzealous, but it was the easiest method of remembering everything, and it would help the women to brainstorm._

_If Wanda was being honest, she had been worried that here in Westview, as perfect as it was, Vision would be her only company. Again. As well as she hid her powers from the townsfolk when in view, it had been such a long time since anybody had had a positive or even neutral response to her. She had spent so long being locked away or hiding that living normally felt like a grand adventure, and socialising a gruelling quest._

_But Agnes liked her, and their first interaction had gone swimmingly. It felt so natural to speak with her, and her stomach felt fluttery at the thought of them sat together, planning and joking as friends do._

_Although, it didn't feel like a first interaction. She had a strange, growing sense of déjà vu. It was as though she knew what she should say and how she should react because she had done it before. Like she was performing this, instead of living it. Her mind seemed to be reading from an invisible, pre-rehearsed script._

_But as she pondered this, the door opened. She turned in her seat to see Agnes grinning at her from the door, the glossy magazine held aloft in her hand._

_'I got it!'_

_'Well, let's take a look?'_

_Wanda smiled as Agnes rushed over to sit back down next to her, but as happy as her demeanour was, something about the length of time that took seemed… off. Sure, she was her next door neighbour, but it felt like the walk to her house and then the search for the magazine should have taken longer._

_She pushed the thought from her mind, choosing to chalk it up to her having been lost in thought for longer than she had realised, or perhaps the magazine had been right by Agnes' front door. Either way, she refused to suspect her of anything so soon after meeting her, especially when there was nothing to suspect her of._

**_I'm just being paranoid._ **

_Agnes made herself comfortable on the couch and then opened up the magazine._

_'Let's start with… setting the mood, shall we?'_

_Wanda nodded, setting the notepad on her knee and readying the pencil between her fingers._

_'Now then, lighting. It says here that candlelight is more romantic than electric light, what do you think?'_

_Wanda considered for a moment, then smiled._

_'I have to agree. It's so atmospheric, and I think I have some candles lying around somewhere.'_

_Agatha grinned excitedly._

_'Perfect! We're off to a heck of a start already!'_

_Her eyes glossed over the page as Wanda made a note of candles on the paper in front of her._

_'Okay, on to décor. I trust that you'll be using your good china and placemats for dinner, what with the occasion?'_

_'Of course!' Wanda lied. She wasn't even sure if they had any "good china," but that was easily solved._

_'Good girl!'_

_Wanda chuckled, and scrawled down "china - good" next. She got a strange feeling when Agnes called her that. Not that it was unpleasant, quite the opposite, in fact. That's what was strange about it._

_There was a pause as Agnes turned the page of the magazine._

_'Ooh- wardrobe! Now we're talking!'_

_The two took a moment to giggle and shuffle forward in their seats, as if to pay more attention to this section. Then they returned to the planning._

_'Now, it says here to grab your man's eye you should wear something sensual, and flattering…'_

_They both paused to think, and Wanda took the time to picture the kind of outfit that she could conjure. She was running through ideas when Agnes had a suggestion._

_'How about a gown? You can never go wrong with a good evening dress,'_

_'You read my mind!' Wanda exclaimed, already envisioning one._

_'I must be magic!'_

_Wanda paused at this, while Agnes laughed to herself. A chill ran through her bones, but as quickly as it was there, it was gone again._

_'I say, with the way this little shindig is turning out, we ought to have one of these ourselves! For a girls night!'_

_That wasn't right. Agnes hadn't said that the first time, had she?_

**_The first time? What am I talking about,_ ** _Wanda chastised herself._ **_We've only just met!_ **

_But the creeping unease withdrew from her stomach as she thought about the concept of her and Agnes, spending time together like that. She'd never had a "girls night" before. She quite liked the idea._

_The two began to giggle at each other again at the idea._

_Once they had recovered, Agnes returned to the magazine._

_'Now, music's next. Have you and your man got any favourites you share? Maybe one of the classics?'_

_Wanda shook her head._

_'No… we're not really big music listeners, you see,'_

**_Not music from this decade, anyway._ **

_'And you don't have "a song?" Nothing special that you played at your wedding?'_

_'No, nothing special,'_

_If Wanda was telling the truth, she wasn't even sure if she and Vision had had a proper wedding anymore, given the fact that she couldn't remember their wedding ceremony. But she wasn't telling the truth._

_Agnes shrugged._

_'I'll just loan you some records, then. So, we've got music covered, décor, wardrobe… oh!' She leant towards her neighbour, 'what about seduction techniques?'_

_Wanda froze._

_'Oh- I have those,'_

_Her friend chuckled._

_'Of course you do,'_

_After an uncertain pause, Wanda picked her notes up again._

_'Just out of curiosity, what does it say?'_

_'That you should stumble when you walk into a room, so he can catch you! That's romantic,'_

_Wanda waved off that particular advice, and peered over the top of the magazine._

_'Any other tricks?' She asked, expecting more advice._

_Instead, Agnes closed the magazine._

_'Say, Wanda, do you know how to fake a stumble? Because the last thing you want to do is to do it and bring your man down with you when you fall, believe me.'_

_'Well- no, I guess I've never done it before,'_

_That took her by surprise. She hadn't been expecting it, and it wasn't in line with the feeling of déjà vu that she had been experiencing. She no longer knew what to say or what was coming next._

_'Well! That won't do at all!'_

_'It won't?'_

_'No,' Agnes stood from the couch and stood in front of her, with her arms outstretched, 'come on, up! I'll simply have to teach you.'_

_Wanda hesitated, but took her neighbour's hands and allowed her to pull her up._

_'Are you sure? You really don't have to,'_

_'Nonsense! It's fun! Think of it as a trust exercise,'_

_Uncertain, Wanda allowed Agnes to lead her to a part of the room clear of furniture. Then, she was turned around with her back to the other woman._

_'Now, just lift your arms out a bit and let yourself fall backwards, I promise I'll catch you!'_

_Wanda fidgeted with her hands._

_'What if- what if you drop me?'_

_Agnes laughed heartily._

_'I may look dainty, but I'm not just a pretty face, dear! I won't drop you. Now, on the count of three, alright? One… two…'_

_Wanda took a deep breath, and pushed herself backwards. For a split second, she was falling, and her heart was racing. And then, a pair of surprisingly strong arms caught her._

_'I got you!'_

_'Oh!' Wanda gasped with a laugh. She didn't at heart believe that Agnes would have let her fall. But what if she had?_

_'I'm here for you, Wanda,'_

_'Thank you,' Wanda steadied her breath, as suddenly, her friend's tone changed to that of one more solemn._

_'I'll always be here for you,'_

_Wanda paused, and looked up from where she was being supported just above the floor._

_Only it wasn't the nosy but cheerful Agnes looking back at her._

_It was Agatha Harkness._

_She was wearing the black dress and purple robes that Wanda had last seen her- the real her- in, before she had been trapped within her own mind. Her hair was no longer in a fashionable, 50's bob, but hung loose and wild about her shoulders. She was looking down at Wanda with a sad smile._

_'And you know where to find me.'_


	3. Books Are The Best Weapon.

'AGATHA!'

Wanda awoke screaming her name. 

She shot up in the bed and stared frantically around the pitch black room with wide eyes. Her heart was pounding in her ears. She reached to her right and flicked the switch of the lamp beside her, immediately illuminating the room in a soft, white glow. 

The room that she sat in was, in fact, colourful. It was a hotel room, far away from Westview. There was no Vision, no charming suburban style and, most notably, no Agatha.

**It was just a dream…**

As she looked around at her sparse surroundings, her eyes cataloguing everything that they could, she noticed something lying by her feet. Wanda leaned forward to investigate, wincing at the pain that it caused. There, crumpled by all of her tossing and turning in the night, lay the magazine that she had taken from the hotel's lobby. It was still where she had discarded it.

With trembling hands, Wanda picked the item up and sat it on her lap. Gently, she smoothed out the creases that had been folded into the thick, glossy pages. As she did, her mind wandered back to the dream that had woken her. Or rather, the dream within a memory.

Agnes. Agatha. How was it possible? Surely, it was just her subconscious, the guilt of how she had suffered Agatha to live, manifesting in the night. That was all. The other Witch was still trapped in her own mind, miles away in Westview. She couldn't cast a spell to insert herself within Wanda's dreams, could she? 

Either way, for some reason, that wasn't what upset Wanda the most. What was, was the fact that she had dreamt of the woman at all. Surely, she had thought that if her mind were to curse her with dreams of those she had cared for, it would choose Vision, Tommy, or Billy, hell, even maybe Pietro. But no, it landed on who Wanda had once presumed to be her close friend.

The cover of the magazine upon her lap soon began to be spotted with water droplets. 

Wanda looked down at them, curious, and then touched a hand to the side of her face. She was crying again. The Witch cursed under her breath and willed herself to stop, pleading with herself. But no matter how she tried, she continued to cry. Her one solace was that this time, she did so soundlessly. She did not scream, she did not wail, she simply hugged the magazine to her chest as the tears cascaded down her face and her shoulders trembled.

She sat there like that as the minutes rolled by. Eventually, she noticed that sunlight had begun to pour in through the window, and illuminate the room. She stared at the soft, yellow rays as they shone upon the carpet and she waited for her tears to dry up. 

Once they had, she closed her eyes and sighed. She couldn't stay in this room forever and wallow in her grief, or else she would break. As such, she pinched the bridge of her nose to relieve the tension that had built in her forehead from so much crying. When Wanda opened her eyes again, she was determined.

She threw the covers off and jumped out of the bed. Her feet hit the coarse carpet below her with a dull thud. By the time she was standing, the oversized tee-shirt had been replaced in a burst of red smoke with her clothing from yesterday, from when she had realised that she was, in fact, the Scarlet Witch. Wanda knew that it was probably far too dramatic for what she had planned for the day, but she didn't care. It gave her the confidence that had been torn from her, and reminded her of the power that she held.

She turned to the bedside table, picked up the matching headpiece from where it lay, and fitted it against her face. As she did, however, she noticed the silver wedding band that sat upon the wooden surface of the table. The woman paused for a moment, and then, took a deep, drawn out breath. 

She turned away from the table so that she wouldn't have to watch the ring dematerialise into nothing. 

She had to let Vision go. She couldn't cling to his ghost anymore, no matter how much she wanted to, or how much pain that letting him go caused. Wanda had learned the hard way about just how much suffering comes from living in the past, and dragging those around her into with her. She wouldn't do it anymore, however tempting it was.

She grabbed the creased, damp magazine from the bed without even thinking of it, rolled it up, and started for the door. She threw it open with a wave of her hand, encased in a red glow, and began to march down the corridor. Her strides were long and determined, and the pain that ran through her body was already starting to fade to the background of her focus. 

As Wanda barged through the door to the hotel's lobby, she startled the clerk from the previous night. 

He jumped forward in his seat at the sound of the door opening with such force that it bounced off of the wall behind it. Wanda didn't bat an eye, however. She just continued on with purpose towards the automatic doors. Just as she reached them, however, she turned back to the man and fixed her eye upon him.

At the sight, he very almost made a mess of the jeans that he wore.

Wanda lifted her free hand, and cocked her head with concentration as scarlet magic clouded around her fist. The cloud stretched into a thin rope, and moved outwards towards the man. The swirling, luminous rope stopped just as it reached the desk, where it dropped the key card to room nineteen down onto the surface.

The man let out a shuddering sigh of relief.

'Thanks. The room was nice,' Wanda remarked as she turned back to the doors. 

'Yeah… come back any time?' He called.

She didn't respond, choosing instead to turn back towards the automatic doors and step through them, out into the world.

The morning sun was bright, a dazzling spotlight against a blue, powdered sky. Its warmth embraced her as soon as she was exposed to it, and it sank through her to sooth the pain within her joints. It alleviated the ache by a minute amount, but after so long of suffering it, any amount of relief made her feel lighter.

She walked at a brisk pace through the deserted car park, her shoes tapping loudly against the aged and cracked tarmac until she reached the pavement of the street. She paused for a moment, pondering what to do, until she turned and began to walk down the street, following the clusters of buildings as they grew closer in distance. 

It would have been relatively easy to use her magic to fly to her destination, after all, she had done it yesterday. But she was still drained from her fight with Agatha, and would rather conserve her energy than exert herself. It would only cause her more stress, and serve to exacerbate her pain.

Instead, she chose to hail down the first cab that she saw. The driver, a thin man with greying black hair, gave her a curious glance as he pulled up to the curb, but she ignored it as she opened the back door closest to her and slid into the car. 

'Where to, ma'am?'

'The nearest library, please,'

He nodded to himself before pulling away from the pavement and turning the car around. Then, he began driving further into the city.

In the back seat, Wanda leaned her head against the headrest. She glanced down to her left hand, where the accursed magazine sat beneath the tight grip of her fingers. She unrolled it carefully, as though it were an important document, and looked down upon its now severely crumpled cover. If she were to tell the truth, Wanda would admit that she never even had intentions of reading it. 

She had never had much of an interest in magazines, least of all fashion and beauty ones. But she was sentimental, and as she had nothing to remember her family by, she had taken this to remember her friend by. As silly as it may have seemed, it comforted her. It made her feel less unbearably alone.

Once more, her mind drifted back to the dream that she had had. A shiver crept down her spine at the thought of how Agatha had looked at her. She had seemed so sorrowful, and yet the smile on her face had felt so… genuine. 

Wanda still didn't feel sure as to whether it had just been a dream, or whether by some spell or incantation, Agatha had really been in her memory. After all, she was capable of doing it in the waking world. Granted, she was still trapped within herself in Westview, but Wanda still knew so little about the scope of her powers. And, indeed, the scope of her own. Who knew what a learned Witch would be able to accomplish, when equipped with the right knowledge.

She hugged the magazine to her chest once more, and silently hoped that her old friend wasn't suffering too much. Wanda knew that it was silly, but she wondered if, maybe, Agatha could feel the hug. If it could be transferred from the paper and to the other Witch. Guilt once again rose in her stomach, but she fought it back down. She tried to remind herself that, as cruel as it was, Agatha's punishment was for the best. But even as she told herself this, deep down, she found herself doubting that. 

Wanda was pulled from her reminiscing and back to reality by the cab slowing down to a stop. She conjured the money for the cab fare, feeling somewhat better about doing it than she had yesterday at the hotel. However, she made note to try to not make a habit out of it, and to stop by the bank as soon as possible.

With the magazine in her hand, she exited the cab. She stood on the pavement and looked up at the library, ignoring the curious glance and stares of those around her. It was a relatively large, concrete building. There were several steps leading up to it, and flower baskets filled with peonies that were nailed into the concrete hung on each side of the open wooden doors.

Wanda took a deep breath. She didn't know how many answers, if any, she would find. But it was worth a shot. At a quick pace, she began to walk towards the library, taking the steps two at a time, despite the stinging in her knees and hips that doing so resulted in, before barrelling through the open doors. The cool air that greeted her, supplied through some out of view air conditioning unit, was a welcome feeling.

Several feet ahead of the front doors, at the center of the bookshelves, tables and chairs, stood a sturdy information desk. Behind it, squinting through rectangular glasses at a large computer screen, sat a woman. Her face was kindly looking, and her hair was a greying brown shade that had been tied back into a quick bun. The white polo neck that she wore was decorated with small, embroidered yellow flowers. A white name tag pinned to it read, "Beatrice."

Wanda smiled politely at her as she approached the desk.

'Hi,' she spoke hesitantly. 

The woman took her attention from the screen in front of her and fixed it on Wanda.

'Oh, Hello! Can I help you with something?'

'Yes, actually,' Wanda anxiously rested her fingers on the surface of the desk.

'I was wondering if you had any books on witches? Or, um, witchcraft in general?'

The librarian looked taken aback, but she quickly recovered her composure.

'Well… I believe we may have a few things in our fantasy section-'

'No,' Wanda interrupted, 'I was thinking more along the lines of non-fiction?'

Beatrice paused.

'Oh! Well, I'm sure we can find something for you. Here,' she stood from her seat and walked around from behind the desk, 'if you'll follow me?'

She began to walk down a corridor of bookshelves, and Wanda rushed to keep up with her, lest she lose her among the stacks. She could only pray, as they weaved in and out of shelves, that they would have any kind of answer for her. Even the smallest of clues would be a start, and a start was good enough for now.

Eventually, Beatrice stopped in front of a particular wall of books.

'Here, this is our history section. You should be able to find some books to your taste, if not,' she paused to point towards a sign nailed to the closest wall of the building, 'you can use that to find your way to our religious or mythological sections!'

Wanda nodded, taking in the tomes around her. 

'Is that everything, miss?'

'Yes, thank you,'

With that, Beatrice began to walk back the way they had both come, and Wanda was left by herself. She turned towards the bound pages before her, and tried to shake off the overwhelmed feeling that tore through her chest. She had no idea where to begin, but she would figure it out. She had to.

**Let's get to work.**

Quickly, Wanda set about moving from shelf to shelf, examining the stylised titles printed upon the creased and worn spines of the books. She grabbed anything that seemed remotely related to her research, and as she scanned the shelves, she noticed something. Nestled in the corner, sat a book bound with a white cover. Upon it, in red font, were the words; ****

"A History of The Salem Witch Trials," ****

Wanda paused. ****

Although she had done her best to catch up on American history since she had moved to the country from her birthplace of Sokovia, there had been some subjects that she had only skimmed over. The Salem witch trials had been one such topic.

When Vision had briefly outlined it to her one day, after she had seen reference to it in a film, it had unnerved the women. After all, she knew what it was like when those around you persecuted you out of fear of that which they did not understand.

Suddenly, Wanda thought back to a snippet of a memory that she had been privy to. Agatha's memory. The woman had been tied to a large stake in the middle of the forest, and surrounded by the dying and drained corpses of women in similar robes to the ones that she had worn. ****

Wanda had not been able to grasp the context of the scene, but for a split second, before the other Witch had regained control of the scenario, Wanda had felt her emotions. She had felt such anger, fear, confusion, and a deep sorrow. It had been a very familiar sensation to her.

After a moment's hesitation, the woman took the book and added it to the ever growing pile that she cradled in the crook of her arm. Then, satisfied for the time being, she turned away from the bookshelves and made her way towards the nearest table and chairs. Once there, she dumped the pile down onto the wooden surface, pulled out a chair, and sat. 

Wanda took a moment to examine the covers of the books that she had selected, and then pulled one towards her. She flicked the cover open with a scarlet burst of swirling magic, and then set to work on her studying. ****

She threw herself into the books, hunched over in her concentration. As she absorbed the words before her, she forced herself to ignore the deep ache within her joints, and the strange, tingling sensation at the back of her mind. It felt as though someone were pushing on a door labelled "pull," but there could be nothing that was causing it, and so Wanda chalked it up to her imagination, or the stress of the previous days. ****

As she sat, engrossed in her research, the hours passed by. But she was oblivious to the passing of time, of the sun setting, and of the library slowly emptying around her. The woman sat in her own little bubble, immune to the outside world and stewing in her growing frustration. ****

The pile of discarded books in front of her sat haphazardly stacked. They had all been useless to Wanda. Granted, they had however been able to explain a history of Witches from an outside perspective, the foundations of Covens and the subsequent persecutions and trials that took place between the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. But as fascinating as it all was, it wasn't what she had been looking for. ****

She had hoped to find anything on the practice, or on the runes and incantations that Agatha had demonstrated to her. Wanda could cast spells without even knowing that that was what they were, but she felt that if she could understand the scope of her powers, she could gain better control over them. ****

 _Wanda._ ****

The Witch snapped her head up from the book that she had been flipping through at the sound of her name. But as her eyes roamed over the library, she saw no one. And yet she had heard a voice, distant, but as clear as though it were on the other side of the room. ****

She held her breath for a moment in anticipation, waiting to hear it again. But as the minutes ticked by, she was met with silence. It was strange, and caused an uneasy feeling to settle within her.

The voice had sounded so real, and so… familiar. But she couldn't place where it was that she had heard it from. ****

As she stared around her, looking for the source, she spotted Beatrice. The librarian was weaving through the bookshelves towards her. ****

'Excuse me, miss,' she spoke softly, 'but I'm afraid the library is closing, now.' ****

Wanda blinked in surprise. She didn't think that she had been there for so long, but as she glanced towards one of the building's windows, she was met with a blazing orange and purple evening sky. ****

'Oh, right,' she mumbled.

As she stood from her seat awkwardly, trying not to wince at the stinging in her ankles and shoulders, Beatrice met her eyes with a warm smile. ****

'I hope you found what you were looking for?'

'Well, it was a start,' Wanda sighed, 'but, thank you.' ****

With that, she turned away from the kind woman and began to walk back through the library, until she reached the entrance and stepped out into the street. ****

The chill of the evening caught her by surprise, and she pulled her hood up over her head to retain at least some warmth. She stood still for a moment, just below an illuminated street light, trying to decide what to do. Just as Wanda had settled on heading back to her old apartment, her stomach let out a loud growl. ****

Of course. She had forgone eating yesterday in her need for rest, and she had eaten nothing but conjured food for quite a while. She couldn't ignore it. ****

Rubbing her hands together to create some semblance of heat as an evening wind swept in, Wanda began to walk down the street. She walked in silence, pondering her findings from the library, or rather, lack thereof. But while she hadn't found any practice instructions or spell books, she knew where she had seen some before. ****

She had seen several on a dusty shelf in an archaic basement, while she had been restrained by bonds of deep, purple magic. ****

Agatha had what she needed. ****

As Wanda realised this, she heard it again. ****

 _Wanda._ ****

The voice was closer this time, but as the woman scanned her surroundings, something told her that she wouldn't find the source. It felt more familiar each time she heard it.

She felt the tingling, pushing sensation from within the back of her mind again, and shuddered.


	4. Haunt Me All Night.

Wanda walked through the streets at the fastest pace that she could muster, as her legs fought against the wind that blew against them and the pain that radiated from within them. She kept her head down and her hands balled into fists by her sides as she navigated the pavements, which were darkening quickly as the sun set below the horizon.

 **I'm losing it,** she thought to herself.

There was nobody here who knew her, and yet she could have sworn up and down that she had heard a voice calling her name. It seemed that the voice was always calling her from the peripherals of her mind, an echoing utterance which grew clearer in tone and volume each time she heard it. Wanda tried her best to ignore it, and the fact that the sound caused a familiar warmth within her chest.

She wondered if the stress of the previous days had finally gotten to her, for her to be hallucinating Agatha's voice. 

Surely, it couldn't really be her, could it? After all, if she had some way to reach beyond the barriers of her mind without freeing her body, then surely she would have used her power to exact some sort of revenge on Wanda, instead of using such power to call her name from just behind her.

The light of a nearby corner shop caught Wanda's eye, and she walked through its glass door without hesitation. She was just exhausted and hungry, that was all. After a quick pick-me-up, she would be right as rain. Or at least, she tried to convince herself that she would be. 

The woman perused the few shelves of the small building. She would have done a proper shop in a bigger supermarket, but she figured that facing her old apartment, one that she and Vision had shared after leaving the Avengers compound, was enough of a challenge for one evening. She promised herself that she would get proper groceries tomorrow. 

For the time being, however, she grabbed a tub of chocolate and fudge ice cream from one of the refrigerators. Then, a chilled bottle of water and a packet of her favourite crisps from a rack below the counter. She figured that she could afford to indulge herself in some junk food after all that had happened.

The teenager behind the register scanned the items with a disinterested air, barely sparing Wanda a glance. She was beyond grateful for that.

Out of the watchful eye of the single security camera, the Witch conjured the money for the food. She handed it over without making eye contact, and quickly snatched the plastic bag that was offered to her.

'Thanks,' she murmured as she left the shop and stepped back out into lamp lit streets. 

They were quickly growing deserted as the evening turned to night, and as such, Wanda tightened her grip on the bag in her hand. Then, using her free hand, the woman propelled herself into the air with tendrils of red magic that burst forth from her palm and gleamed in the darkness.

She flew upwards through the air, drawing closer to the stars that peaked out from the dark, gossamer veil of the sky. The woman stopped just above the city skyline, where she was sure that she wouldn't be spotted. Then, Wanda began to fly home. Or rather, to a place where she had once lived. It didn't feel like a home anymore, merely a place to sleep.

She used the landmarks below her to guide her way, flying against the wind. From above, the world seemed so small. So distant. She felt so disconnected from it all. But, then again, that wasn't anything new for her.

Wanda flew above the city, descending ever so slightly now and then to get a better look at her surroundings. Eventually, she spotted the apartment building. Slowly, reluctantly, she allowed her magic to pull her down towards the ground until her shoes landed delicately upon the paved street.

The woman cast her eyes up from the ground to look at the front door, allowing the red hood to fall from her head as she did so. 

The door in front of her seemed as though it were a vision, a hallucination rather than a real sight. She hadn't stood before it in so long, and as she walked towards it, Wanda found that her footsteps were hesitating. Nonetheless, she fought through it, and with a wave of her wrist, a scarlet circle cast the door open.

The Witch walked into the building, flinching as the door closed behind her. The hallway was brightly lit, but felt as though it were hiding apparitions just out of her sight. She hadn't been here in so long that she wondered whether she would be able to face the ghosts that remained.

Wanda walked to the elevator silently, trying to resist the urge to flee from this place. As she stepped into the lift, she felt as though she didn't belong here. But there was nowhere else for her to go. Nowhere that would welcome her, at least.

The trip to her floor was brief, in reality, but to her it felt like hours. She gripped the bag in her hand tighter, plastic pressing into flesh as she left the elevator and began to approach her old apartment door. She stared down the brass numbers for a moment, preparing herself. And then, she extended her hand towards the handle, and allowed a stream of magic to slip into the lock.

The door swung open silently, and Wanda stared through its passage. The apartment was pitch black, stirring up an ominous feeling within her. She stepped through the threshold of the door after a moment's hesitation.

**Here goes nothing.**

As she crossed through the doorway, the door closed behind her at her will. For a moment, she just stood there in the darkness. Wanda let it wash over her, unprepared to face the living memories of what had once been. Eventually, relying on muscle memory, she reached to her left and flipped the light switch, bathing the living room in light. ****

It was just as she had left it, on that fateful day that she had stormed the S.W.O.R.D headquarters in search of Vision's body. The only thing that was remotely different was the thin layer of dust that had come to settle over everything in view. ****

As she walked through the living room and into the kitchenette, thin wisps of shimmering magic emerged from within her, sweeping away the dust. The last thing that she needed was a sneezing attack. ****

As she reached the kitchen counter, she unceremoniously dumped the plastic shopping bag down onto the hard surface. Automatically, she placed the water on the counter and put the slowly softening ice cream into the empty refrigerator. Then, she tore open the crisps and shoved a handful into her mouth, not caring about the mess that it caused. ****

Her mind was numb. Her body was stinging. All she could think of was how she was no more closer to discovering any more about her powers than she had been since she had acquired them. She didn't even know where to go next. The only person who she knew that could help her was miles away, in a town that would never accept her again, and who knew what it's inhabitants would do if they saw her there. ****

_ There’ll always be torches and pitchforks for ladies like us, Wanda. _ ****

Wanda jumped.  ****

That had been what Agatha had said to her… and that had been Agatha's voice. It had sounded so close, almost as though it had come from behind her.  ****

Slowly, she turned around to face the wall. ****

But there was nobody there. Just her kitchen sink, and the yellow, cracking paint behind it. Wanda dropped the bag of crisps to the counter and ran a hand through her red hair. ****

**What's happening?** She asked herself. ****

She took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. She just needed to relax, she convinced herself. The stress was getting to her, that's all. ****

She picked the crisps back up and walked through the apartment, turning on lights as she did so, as though something were going to jump out of the shadows at her. Finally, she reached the bedroom. ****

Here, Wanda shut the door behind her, and leant against its surface. It felt like her legs had turned to jelly. Step after painful step, the woman walked until she reached the double bed against the back wall, and threw herself down atop the covers.  ****

She sighed with relief as her aching joints sank into the soft mattress.  ****

**That's better,** ****

She reached into the crisp packet once again and began to eat. Wanda knew that it wasn't the healthiest option, but she needed it. She made her way through the bag a lot more quickly than she thought she would, but then again, she had been starving. Her hunger just hadn't hit her until she had actually begun to eat. ****

The woman balled up the packet in her hand, and watched as sparks of red magic dissolved it into nothing. It was better than the bag ending up in a landfill. As it flickered into nothing, she looked towards the television at the end of the room, standing upon a dresser. For a moment, she considered reaching for the remote control on her bedside table, but then decided against it after a moment's thought. ****

**Better not.** ****

Instead, Wanda pushed herself up from the bed, wincing as she did so. Then, she stood and began to make her way over to the wardrobe that stood against the wall. The doors flung open with a flick of her wrist. She was in need of some pyjamas.  ****

She took off her red cape and hung it on a spare hanger in the closet, despite the stinging in her elbows and collar bones as she did so. Next, she took off her red headpiece and gloves, then gently placed it upon her bedside table. Wanda would find a place for them later. Finally, she peeled off her shirt and leggings. She could have used her magic to do so, as she had done the previous night, but it used up too much of her energy, and she was in desperately short supply.

She folded up her shirt and leggings and put them aside to be washed. Then, Wanda reached into the wardrobe and pulled out a red, fleece pyjama shirt and matching bottoms. As she put them on, she smiled at the comfort and warmth of the material. That was much better.  ****

Finally changed and a lot more comfortable, she turned towards the en suite, flipping on the lights as she entered the smaller room. The tiled, blue-painted room was small, but it had suited Wanda and Vision perfectly when they had bought the place. After all, only one of them had needed to use it. ****

Wanda crossed the room to the sink, and here she pulled open the face of the mirror above it, revealing the concealed cabinet within. She picked up the toothpaste and toothbrush that lay on the shelf in front of her. The woman brushed her teeth vigorously, fixing her reflection with a cold stare, as though she were trying to communicate a message to herself. ****

However, in the second that passed as she ducked down to spit out the toothpaste into the sink, something in the mirror had changed.  ****

By the time she had looked back up at the reflection, there was something waiting for her. Wanda's mouth fell open. ****

There, in the mirror behind her, stood Agatha Harkness. She was wearing her black dress and purple robes. There was something wrong with her reflection, however. It was almost... translucent. 

Agatha fixed Wanda with a gentle smile.  ****

_ 'Cute jammies,' _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! I'm just popping in to say that I hope you're enjoying the story so far!!! I have a lot more planned thats coming very soon!! And thank you all for the lovely comments!!! They've really made my day!!! Until next time, bye!!!


	5. If You Have Nightmares...

Wanda felt like she should scream. 

If anybody in their right mind saw an apparition of their former friend behind them in their bathroom mirror, they would scream. If this had been a T.V. show, this would be the part where the music would reach a dramatic climax, and the main character would scream. 

But she wasn't in a T.V. show. Not anymore.

She simply stared at her mirror, her mouth agape. She couldn't move, she couldn't blink, she couldn't speak, she couldn't even think. Her grip on the toothbrush in her hand had tightened so much that the plastic handle cracked underneath her knuckles.

In the mirror, Agatha's reflection only continued to smile at her, with a raised brow. The cameo brooch on her collar shimmered with a faint, purple glow underneath the bathroom light. 

After a moment, Wanda managed to swallow the lump that had formed deep at the back of her throat.

'Agatha?' 

Her voice came out hoarse, and much quieter than she had intended. It was barely above a whisper.

Agatha chuckled. 

It was strange, whenever she made a sound, rather than hearing it in the room as she expected to, Wanda heard it in her head. Her voice echoed and reverberated through the Witch's skull.

_'Miss me, hot stuff?'_

As the other Witch spoke, she leant forward and placed a hand on Wanda's shoulder. This really made her jump.

She spun around to face the woman.

Only to be met with her shower door.

No one was there. Wanda felt her heart stutter from behind her ribs as she turned back to the mirror. Her own, lonely reflection stared back at her with wide eyes and a stricken face.

'Agatha?' 

Her voice lingered in the air, but was met with no reply. 

**What's happening?**

The toothbrush fell from Wanda's hand as she darted out of the en suite, through her bedroom and into the hallway. Here, she was met with similar solitude.

'Agatha?' She called again, louder this time. 

The woman felt frantic. Agatha had been right _there,_ mere inches behind her _._ She had spoken to Wanda. She had touched her, and the Scarlet Witch had been able to feel the weight and warmth of her old friend's hand. Then, like Orpheus, she had turned to look behind, and the spell had been broken. And now, she was alone again.

Wanda brought a hand up to the shoulder that Agatha had touched. The skin of her shoulder felt as though it was burning, like the woman had set every nerve underneath her skin alight with a simple, momentary brush of her fingers.

Slowly, Wanda sank downwards until she fell to her knees and on to the cold, hard floor. 

**Am I losing my mind?**

Was it stress that was causing her to imagine the other woman, or loneliness? 

**Or was she really there?**

After all, fitments of one's imagination could rarely be felt. 

The woman ran her hands over her face. She didn't understand what was happening. All she knew was that Agatha had been in the bathroom with her, and instead of feeling fear, or anger, she had felt as though she were seeing a waking dream. But once she had vanished into the aether again? Wanda was hit with a deep, cutting loneliness. 

For a few minutes, she just knelt there and stared down the hall and towards the front door. She didn't know what exactly it was that she was waiting for or expecting. Perhaps for a burst of rich, purple magic to blast the door clean off of its hinges. Nothing happened, however.

Eventually, and with great reluctance, the woman stood from the ground. Her knees stung and wavered as she did, but she ignored it. She lingered for a moment before walking back into her bedroom.

Her chest felt constricted as she tried to breathe to calm herself. It was as though there were an invisible rope tied tightly around her chest, squeezing her ribs. And at the other end of the taut line, pulling it between her slender, magic-charred fingers, was Agatha.

For every step that Wanda took away from Westview, she had to fight back the urge to take one towards the older Witch. A self imposed ouroboros.

But who could blame her. After all, they had been friends, hadn't they? Surely, it couldn't have all been acting on Agatha's part, could it? She was the only other person who knew what it was like to be chased, feared and hunted by those who misunderstood you. She knew how harnessing such power in a world where she was expected to be able to control it felt.

Vision had tried to understand. He really had. But he could never quite grasp it. He had never experienced such things. After all, while they had both been Avengers, he wasn't associated with dangerous and potentially destructive powers. He was associated with his humanity. With his brilliance, and with the technological talents of Tony Stark. 

He had only ever hid because Wanda had needed to, for her own safety. While he logically knew why she did, that didn't necessarily mean that he understands on a more personal level. Knowing and understanding are two very different things, after all.

But Agatha knew. She had been able to blend in so well with the citizens of Westview because it was second nature to her.

Wanda touched a hand to her forehead at the presence of a sudden, stinging pain. So much thinking, reflecting and being haunted by the ghosts of her own past had caused a horrible migraine. 

She sighed against her hand, and walked back into the en suite. It was still empty. Deep down she had known that it would be, but that didn't stop the disappointment that bloomed in between her lungs. 

As the woman entered the room, she noticed something on the floor. After a moment, Wanda knelt down to pick up her toothbrush from where it had fallen to the tiles below her, fetched the tube of toothpaste from the sink, and placed them both back inside of the cabinet behind the mirror. As she returned them both to their proper place, she grabbed a neatly folded white face cloth from a similar pile upon the top shelf. 

She held the cloth in one hand, scarlet sparks of magic unfolding it by the corners as, with her free hand, she closed the mirror cupboard and turned on the cold tap. The sound of running, gurgling water broke the heavy silence within the room. For a moment, Wanda allowed the water to rush into the sink as she stared off into space, balling the cloth up in her hands absent-mindedly as she did so. 

Eventually, however, the woman pulled herself from her trance and held the cloth underneath the cool water until it was thoroughly soaked through. Then, she wrung the excess water from the fabric, squeezing it between her stinging and tired hands. A red cloud of magic encased the handle of the tap, turning it off for her and bringing the torrent of water to a stop as she placed the cool, damp cloth to her forehead, right over the source of the pain and tension that pushed against her skin.

Wanda sighed with satisfaction at the relief that it brought her.

**There we go.**

The cold droplets that met her head soothed her immediately, alleviating the ball of fire that had formed in between her brows. Eventually, she turned from the sink and allowed her feet to drag her towards the bed.

Slowly, Wanda slipped underneath the covers and sat up against the headboard. Despite the heavy duvet and throw blankets, the bed felt cold, and far too big. It had been so long since she had slept by herself without the promise that somebody would join her. 

She glanced towards the open bathroom door. 

_'Miss me, hot stuff?'_

Agatha's voice rang through her head once more, repeating what she had said to her. Wanda couldn't tell whether she was just remembering the words that had been said to her, or if she was imagining the other woman's voice again. 

The tingling at the edges of her mind returned once more. It was like pins and needles at the back of her skull, that poked and prodded as they tried to penetrate her thoughts. For a moment, Wanda's eyes glowed a burning scarlet as she attempted to reach out towards the sensation. However, as soon as she did, it retreated, as though it had fled from her entirely just as she brushed against it.

Wanda didn't even have time to ponder what this could mean, as her migraine shot across her forehead with a vengeance. 

She winced, and leaned her head backwards against the headboard, trying to escape the sharp pain. She pressed the damp cloth down harder over her head, squeezing the water from it.

**Screw it,**

Wanda gave in to her temptation, and compelled the remote control on the bedside table to fly into her hand, chased by tails of red, gleaming magic. She knew that it wasn't a good idea, and that she had sworn off television after what had taken place in Westview, but she figured that a little T.V. couldn't hurt. 

After all that had taken place today, she felt that she deserved it. For only she was too sore to move, she would have even grabbed the tub of ice cream from the kitchen. For a moment, she was even tempted to use her magic to fetch it for her, but the concentration and effort that it would have taken would have only exasperated her pain. And so, reluctantly, Wanda decided against it.

**Brain freeze is the last thing I need, anyway.**

Instead, the woman turned her attention towards the artificial light of the television screen as it flickered to life. A low, familiar electronic hum accompanied it. Wanda immediately muted the sound, lest it should further aggravate the throbbing pain behind her eyes.

She spent a moment flicking around the channels, before eventually settling on some kind of soap opera. It was either that or a film, Wanda couldn't say. She wasn't paying enough attention, all she knew was that it wasn't the news or a makeover show, and so it would do.

Satisfied, she raised the hand that wasn't pressed to her head, and clicked her fingers. Between them, at the moment of friction, a bright ball of condensed, crackling magic was created. It shot up into the ceiling and spread across the paintwork like a red firework, and as it did, all of the lights in the apartment extinguished.

**That's better,**

She let out a deep breath as the glaring light was turned off, allowing for some more relief from the crushing headache.

Her concentration on the screen ahead of her slowly began to waver. Ever so slightly, little by little, she found that her eyes were beginning to close.

**I'll just rest my eyes for a moment.**

As she told herself this, the darkness rushed towards her.


	6. ... We'll Dance on The Bed.

_Wanda was sitting upon a bed. The thick duvet beneath her was soft. White plain cotton covered by a throw blanket with a blue, intricate design. She sat on the edge with her legs crossed beneath her. She had grabbed a pillow from the top of the bed to rest her aching forearms on._

_There was something familiar about this scene._

_The room that she sat in was small, but comfortable. It was well lit, but almost everything in the room was a dull tone of grey. The only specks of colour came from the blanket below her, a red, abstract painting on the wall that had caught her eye, and the television that faced her from the corner. It was one of the smaller rooms in the Avengers compound, but Wanda couldn't complain. After all, most cells weren't as luxurious._

_And isn't that what her room was? A cell, with the rest of the compound being her prison. Here, she was kept away from the cruel glare of the world. Unless the Avengers were in need of her powers, which only served to damage her reputation more._

**_But even if I could leave, where would I go?_ ** _She asked herself._

_After all, her family had all perished, and she was new to America. The woman knew no one here apart from her fellow Avengers, but she rarely spoke to them. That wasn't to say that they didn't speak to her. They did, when they had to. Natasha and Steve were the nicest to her barring Vision, she soon realised. Of course, Steve, the model of courtesy and heroics, was nice to everybody. But, he seemed to be especially nice to her when he was in use of her powers._

_She had very little interactions with Mr. Banner or Thor, as one was always busy with his work or controlling his temperament, and the other travelled back and forth from Earth to Asgard. Clint, the one with the arrows, was nice, but he had treated her like a child. As for Tony Stark, Wanda tried not to take his condescending air personally. That seemed to be how he treated everyone._

_And then there was Natasha. She had looked at the woman with such tenderness in her eyes, and, when not on missions, often offered to take her shopping or to visit her local haunts. They had shared an understanding, Wanda had thought._

_Not that any of that mattered. Wanda barely left her room anymore, especially when more than one of her teammates were in the building with her. She didn't feel comfortable speaking with them. She didn't feel wanted. She was much more content to sit in her room and watch the sitcoms that gave her joy, anyway, no matter how many times that she had watched the episodes of her favourite shows._

_As she sat perched atop the bed, staring at the television whilst Malcolm in The Middle played on the screen, Wanda sensed a presence outside of her bedroom door. A tingling in the peripherals of her mind._

**_Right on time._ **

_For some reason, she had been expecting this, and Wanda didn't need to use her powers to be able to know that it Vision standing outside._ _Every day, no matter which part of the building she was in, he would come and visit her. At first, his visits had always taken her by surprise, but now she could practically time them to the second._

_He would talk to her, or try to learn how to cook her favourite foods. Eventually, once he had grasped the concept of it, they had even been able to sit together in comfortable silence. Sometimes, she would even humour him in teaching him phrases or songs in Sokovian. At first, that particular pastime had seemed pointless to Wanda. After all, he was an A.I. that quite literally had the internet at his fingertips. If he really wished to learn the language, then he could do so in mere seconds. But, as she soon realised, it was actually his attempt at making her feel better._

_Vision didn't understand what it was to be lonely, or to grieve. Of course, he knew the dictionary definitions and psychological effects of these terms, but he had never experienced them. However, he still tried his best to empathise with Wanda. And to her, that was all that mattered._

_The feeling of a presence outside of the door persisted, and so Wanda turned her attention away from the television and towards the door._

_'Vision?'_

_Nothing happened._

_Wanda frowned. That wasn't right._ _Vision was meant to materialise through the door as he always did. The strange feeling of déjà vu that had settled deep within her gut had told her so._

_A moment passed, and then another. Then, something truly unexpected happened._

_From the other side of the panel door, came a loud knock. Then another. And then another._

_Wanda sat up straighter, turning her body fully towards the door._

_Vision still hadn't grasped the purpose of using doors, let alone knocking on them. He had come to rely on Wanda's keen sense, and would simply wait for her to notice his presence on the other side of the door, as knocking made him feel rather awkward. The idea of a socially awkward synthezoid still made the woman chuckle from time to time._

_The knocking persisted, and Wanda cleared her throat anxiously._

_'... come in?'_

**_It's alright._ ** _She tried to convince herself._

_After all, whom else could it be? The Avengers compound had state of the art security systems, the best that money could buy and technology could conceive. Nobody who would want to harm her could get in here._

_The door slowly began to slide open, and as Wanda caught sight of who was waiting behind it, her stomach dropped._

_As the panel slid into the wall, it revealed a woman. She was roughly as tall as Wanda, with sleek, dark hair that tumbled elegantly to her shoulders. She wore the grey jumper and black jeans that Wanda had last seen her wearing, when she had left her in Westview. The cameo brooch that she always wore hung from a silver chain around her neck, and its surface seemed to be covered by a thin, purple sheen._

_It was Agnes._

_Except it wasn't, not really. She wore the neighbourly façade that Wanda had grown used to, but the usual large, bewitching smile that she wore had been replaced with a far more subdued one._

_'Agatha,' Wanda gasped._

_The woman shrugged her shoulders half heartedly, and the corners of her mouth twitched upwards ever so slightly._

_'What gave it away?'_

_As she spoke, her voice reverberated around the room unusually. It was as though the two women were standing in a large, empty theatre rather than a small bedroom._

_That was when it hit Wanda. She was dreaming again._

_A moment of heavy silence passed between them before the Scarlet Witch spoke._

_'What are you doing here?'_

_As when Wanda had seen her in her bathroom, she felt like she should scream, or at the very least, be afraid. But she wasn't. She was shocked, that was undeniable, but even after everything that had happened, a familiar face, especially this one, set her somewhat at ease._

_Agatha looked as though she were pondering the question for a moment. But eventually, with her eyes downcast, she answered._

_'I don't know,'_

_Wanda was taken aback by this. The other Witch seemed strangely timid and… unsure of herself. She now resembled her overly cheerful, neighbourly façade of Agnes, nor her confident and wise self that Wanda had been able to glimpse before they had parted ways._

_She shuffled her weight from foot to foot on the threshold of the door, before speaking again._

_'... can I come in?'_

_Wanda nodded wordlessly._

_She didn't know why she agreed. Who knew what the woman's true intentions were? But, as she watched Agatha enter the room without meeting her gaze, something deep within her told her that there was no danger._

**_This is my dream,_ ** _she reassured herself._

_Or was it?_

_Agatha stood at the corner of Wanda's bed, and hesitantly met her gaze._

_'Are you really here? Or am I just dreaming you?'_

_The question burst from Wanda's lips before she could stop herself. It took both of them by surprise. Her face burned at the ridiculousness of it._

_The other Witch chuckled, but not cruelly. Not at her. It was more like she had found the question genuinely amusing._

_'Well, do you_ **_want_ ** _me to really be here?'_

_'I don't know,' Wanda answered honestly._

_She was confused. On the one hand, she wanted Agatha to be there with her so that she could assure herself that she hadn't been losing her mind. And so that maybe, just maybe, the woman wouldn't dominate the background of her every thought. But on the other hand, after everything that had happened, Wanda wasn't sure if she could trust her. To top it all off, the tingling at the edges of her mind seemed to worsen with every moment she spent in the dream, as though it were a cloud spreading over her thoughts and concealing them from view._

**_Like the hex._ **

_To her considerable surprise, Agatha seemed disappointed by her answer, but not surprised._

_'Well, then we'll say that I'm a dream, then, 'kay?'_

_Wanda frowned, but found herself nodding._

**_What does that even mean?_ **

_Agatha flashed her bewitching smile at her._

_'Then it's settled! Now, can I sit down?'_

_She gestured to the empty space next to Wanda, where Vision would have sat._

_The situation was so preposterous that the woman once again found herself questioning whether she had lost her mind. But, she reasoned with herself, this was just a dream. As such, what was the harm in simply sitting next to Agatha? Since leaving Westview, she had longed to be able to do it on more than one occasion, after all._

_'Um… sure?'_

_Wanda found herself sitting more formally as Agatha joined her. She uncrossed her legs and planted her feet firmly on the floor, sitting rigidly. Agatha noticed, and nudged her gently as she leant backwards on her elbows, stretching her legs out in front of her._

_'Hey, relax! It's just us ladies, here,'_

_Her casual tone seemed so strange to Wanda, and yet, in spite of everything, it slowly helped to settle the anxious feeling in her chest. She tried to sit in a more relaxed position as Agatha appraised her surroundings._

_Her eyes landed on the television, and she let out a short laugh._

_'Malcolm in The Middle? Really?'_

_Wanda looked down to her lap, hiding the small smile that had formed on her face behind a curtain of red hair._

_'We both know I'm a sucker for sitcoms,' she murmured._

_Agatha's smile grew wider, creasing the corners of her eyes._

_'Oh yes, we know,'_

_They slid into a comfortable silence, watching the slapstick shenanigans on the screen._

_Except, Wanda wasn't watching them. Not really. She was focusing on fiddling with her hands, pulling at the skin of her fingers. It was because of her love for sitcoms that Agatha, the real Agatha, was trapped in Westview._

_'I'm sorry,' Wanda admitted, 'about-'_

_'Don't,' Agatha cut her off with a snap._

_The younger woman jumped slightly at the sudden change in her tone. It brought forth memories of a dark, bewitched basement, covered in vines and shimmering runes._

_Agatha pushed herself up into a sitting position, and brought a hand to her face._

_'I'm sorry,' she sighed, 'I didn't mean to snap like that. That's not what I came here to do.'_

**_What?_ **

_Before Wanda could ask what exactly she meant by that, Agatha was speaking again._

_'It's just… let's focus on something else for now, huh?'_

_Wanda paused for a moment, but nodded hesitantly._

_'Alright,'_

_'Thanks, hon,'_

**_Hon,_ ** _the pet name echoed throughout the Scarlet Witch's mind. The woman hadn't called her that since they had both been playing at pretend, dressed in well fitting costumes and accompanied by laugh tracks._

_They both fell back into silence, and Wanda's mind began to wonder. If this was all a part of the dream, then why did it feel so… realistic?_

_As she pondered this, Agatha spoke up again._

_'This is a nice place,' she observed, 'a bit grey, but cosy.'_

_Wanda shrugged._

_'I guess. I never liked the grey, either.'_

_'Why didn't you redecorate? I mean, you probably could have done it with a snap of your fingers,'_

_She turned to face the other woman's curious eyes._

_'I… I don't know,' she confessed, 'it didn't really feel like my room, anyway.'_

_'How come?'_

_Wanda didn't expect Agatha to be so genuinely interested. Perhaps the woman should have been suspicious, but then again, if she had ulterior motive behind her questions, then surely she would have asked them when she had forced the Scarlet Witch down memory lane, wouldn't she?_

**_This is my dream,_ ** _Wanda reminded herself._

_Agatha continued to stare at her, with a very interested expression._

_It brought heat to Wanda's cheeks, and she eventually answered._

_'Well, I didn't even really pick it. It was picked for me, and so I guess I never even felt all that attached to it.'_

_Something deep within Agatha's eyes took on a sombre, sad expression. It wasn't pity, to Wanda, it felt more like sympathy._

_She looked away from the other Witch's gaze with a shrug, and continued._

_'It doesn't really matter, anyway. All I did here was watch T.V. and sleep,' she chuckled, 'not exactly fun, I know.'_

_The other woman frowned. Then, slowly, she began to smile. Wanda could practically see the light bulb forming above her head._

_'We could make it fun,'_

_'What do you mean?'_

_Agatha didn't answer Wanda. Instead, she pushed her hands down into the bed, compressing the springs of the mattress below her before allowing them to bounce back into place. Then, seemingly satisfied, she began to stand up atop the covers._

_Wanda looked up at her like she had gone mad._

_'What are you doing?' She asked, incredulously._

_Agatha held her hands out towards the other woman expectantly._

_'Come on up and you'll see,'_

_Wanda couldn't stop the short, surprised laugh that escaped her._

_'What do you expect me to do? Jump on the bed?' She asked, sarcastically._

_To her shock, Agatha nodded._

_'Exactly!'_

_ The redhead gawked at her. At least now, with the silliness of Agatha's request, it definitely felt like a dream. _

_ 'No way,' _

_ Agatha pouted down at her. _

_ 'Oh, c'mon! It'll be fun! Like a sleepover,' _

_ This statement very nearly worked. Wanda had never had a proper sleepover before, and, in her carefully constructed sitcom, she had often wondered what one with her neighbour would have been like. However, she crossed her arms stubbornly. _

_ 'We're too old for that kind of thing,' _

_ The other woman laughed. _

_ 'Is it against the law?'  _

_ Wanda's face grew red from the teasing. She didn't know why she was so against the idea. _

**_This is just a dream,_ ** _ she repeated to herself like a mantra. _

_ 'That's right, it's just a dream,' _

_ Wanda froze at Agatha's statement. How had she known what she was thinking? Coincidences like that didn't just happen in dreams. It sent a chill through her spine, but before she could ask what was going on or try to wake herself up, Agatha did something that somehow managed to shock her even more. _

_ Slowly, the other Witch leant down and took Wanda's hands in her own. The contact sent a jolt of static electricity through Wanda, and she was so stunned that she allowed herself to be gently pulled upwards, until she was standing on the bed as well. _

_ Agatha's hands were warm, as warm as they had been when her apparition had grasped her shoulder.  _

_ Once she had pulled Wanda up into a standing position, however, she didn't let go of her. Wanda stared at their interlocked hands, her mouth agape. _

_ 'That wasn't so hard, was it?' Agatha asked her softly. _

_ Wanda didn't answer her. She just continued to blink wordlessly at their hands. _

**_Maybe I am going mad,_ **

_ 'Oh, don't be a spoilsport,' the older Witch commented once again, as though she could hear Wanda's thoughts. _

_ The Scarlet Witch immediately snapped her head up from their hands to Agatha's face. However, the other woman simply gave her a knowing wink, and began to slowly bounce on the bed.  _

_ 'How did you-' Wanda was immediately cut off. _

_ 'Does it matter?'  _

**_Of course,_ ** _ was Wanda's first reaction. But as she thought about it, she began to wonder.  _

_ After all, this was a dream. Of course the dream version of Agatha would know what she was thinking, she was a projection of Wanda's brain. Agatha's image puppeteered by how her brain presumed that she would act, or rather, how her subconscious thoughts wanted her to act. _

_ 'No,' Wanda uttered eventually. _

_ Agatha nodded. Then, she lightly pulled at her companion's arms. _

_ 'Join me,' she offered, 'you know you want to~' _

_ This was what made Wanda break. She began to laugh, in a way that she hadn't for quite a while. Eventually, despite herself, she began to jump on the bed, too. _

_ 'This is insane,' she commented between breaths, trying to recover from her laughing fit. _

_ 'But isn't it fun?' Agatha asked, leaning her forehead against Wanda's.  _

_ There they were, in a bedroom of the Avengers compound, jumping on a bed and giggling as though they were children. Wanda hadn't had this kind of fun in a long, long time. _

_ Then, Agatha flickered. _

_ Like a glitch, she phased in and out of Wanda's vision. The Scarlet Witch paused, watching in horror. _

_ 'Agatha?' _

_ The other woman grabbed a hold of the necklace she was wearing, tightly holding onto the brooch at the end of the chain. As she did, she ceased flickering, her image once again growing solid. Only now, she was looking at Wanda with a sad, solemn expression. _

_ She let go of Wanda's hands. _

_ 'I'm sorry, dear, but it's wearing off.'  _

_ Wanda furrowed her brow. _

_ 'What do you mean?' _

_ Agatha raised a hand to the other Witch's temple. _

_ 'I mean,' she said with a sigh, 'that it's time to wake up.' _

_ Wanda gripped her companion's forearm. _

_ 'I don't understand,' her voice was frantic. Suddenly, it all felt far too real. _

_ 'Until next time, angel,'  _

_ Then, before she could so much as blink, Wanda was engulfed by a thick, suffocating cloud of purple magic. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: picturing this scene was what inspired me to write this fic!!!


	7. Weighed Down by Morning.

Wanda awoke with a large, heaving gasp. 

Her eyes stung as she coughed from the heaving, and water momentarily gathered in the corners of her eyes. Once she had sufficiently caught her breath, she examined her surroundings. Lazy, morning sunlight was pouring in through the window across from her. She groaned as it hit her eyes, and with a wave of her hand, a trail of red magic drew the curtain over.

Wanda was, thankfully, still in the bedroom of her apartment. She had, evidently, accidentally fallen asleep whilst still sitting against the headboard. She had woken up uncomfortably slouched against its hard surface. The television had turned itself off in the night, and now stood with a black, blank screen. The face cloth which she had fallen asleep holding to her forehead had been dried by the sun, and now lay crumpled on the covers next to her.

The woman winced as she sat upright, and became aware of a stinging pain from deep within her neck and shoulders. Her bones snapped and grated against each other as she moved, but she paid this no heed. It was, unfortunately, the least of her concerns.

 **What is happening?** The Witch asked herself.

She could make neither heads nor tails of her strange, vivid dream. Her thoughts were still sluggish and clouded over, as they had been when she had been overcome by the tingling sensation that had grown to be familiar. Although, thankfully, the feeling itself no longer remained.

Agatha had been there, and yet, she had not. Wanda couldn't tell whether the strange, ethereal apparitions that she had been witnessing had been born of her loneliness and guilt, or whether by some trick, Agatha had escaped the fate that she had been confined to. 

Of course, that wasn't possible. She couldn't escape her body, the only way that she could leave Westview would have been to somehow overcome Wanda's magic. Surely, if she had, then she would have physically tracked down Wanda immediately to exact her revenge. Wouldn't she?

Wanda rubbed at her eyes, frustrated. Just when she couldn't have felt any more lost. 

Slowly, painfully, she manoeuvred herself until she was sitting on the edge of the bed, with her feet resting tentatively on the cold floor. The dream had felt more real than any of the most vivid nightmares that she had been subjected to. It had felt more real, even, than anything that had taken place within her carefully constructed world of Westview. And the fun that she had had during that short, peculiar dream… the fun that she had shared with Agatha; it had made her heart flutter.

The woman sighed. Thinking about the dream only seemed to cause the fog that had settled over her thoughts to thicken even more. Slowly, she eased herself up from the bed and on to her feet, holding her arms out slightly for a moment in an attempt to balance herself on her shaking, tender legs. That was even stranger. It felt as though she had actually been doing something physically exerting like, for example, jumping up and down on a bed.

**But that isn't possible.**

What had happened in her dream could not, in any way, have actually happened. It had been a dream. She knew that it had been. If not, then surely, she would have woken up in the Avengers compound, rather than the bed that she knew she had fallen asleep in. Wanda shuddered at the thought.

**That would be a real nightmare.**

The woman took a hesitant, staggering step forward, and then another, until her footing was more confident. Once she was sure that she wasn't going to keel over and land face first on the floor, Wanda walked into the en suite. She kept her eyes down as she approached the sink, avoiding glancing into the mirror, for fear that she would be reminded of the vision that she had seen in it.

It wasn't Agatha that Wanda feared. Despite everything that had happened, her presence still brought the woman comfort. No, what Wanda feared was the idea that she had, in fact, been hallucinating. She had only just regained control of her life, and she wouldn't let her subconscious take it from her again.

She turned the handle of the tap, sending a clear stream of cold water into the ceramic basin of the sink. Wanda caught a pool of it between her hands, and lifted it to her face. She sighed with relief as the refreshing water splashed against her tired skin. 

As she bent over the sink and thoroughly washed her face, Wanda thought back to the way that Agatha had momentarily snapped at her in the dream, and then had immediately apologised. It was a minor detail, but one that seemed to stick out to her. In all of the time that they had spent together, even when she had donned her overly friendly, neighbourly façade, Agatha had never apologised to Wanda before. 

She tried to dismiss this fact, and to convince herself that she was overthinking. After all, it was a background detail of a vivid dream. Nothing more than the playground of her most subconscious, repressed thoughts. However, Wanda's intuition, for some reason, told her that this wasn't the case.

As she pondered this, the woman thought that she could hear something. As ridiculous as it seemed, Wanda could have sworn that there was someone humming a tune from very far away. A very familiar, upbeat tune, at that. But she couldn't put her finger on where exactly she had heard it from before, not with how groggy all of her thoughts still seemed to be. 

She shot straight up from the sink, and tried to focus on the source of the melody. But she couldn't quite catch it, as though it were moving further away from her. With a single, scarlet flash, the tap turned off, just in case the vocalisations had been an illusion created by the sound of the running water. However, the faint humming continued.

Wanda raced like a bullet from the bathroom. With a speed that she didn't know she possessed, she cut through the bedroom before coming to a standstill in the middle of the hallway.

'Who's there?'

She surprised herself with the booming, intimidating tone that her voice had taken. But, she decided to allow herself to continue with the confidence that had overtaken her. She raised her hands defensively, against the invisible intruder.

However, just like that, the humming had stopped.

Wanda huffed out an indignant breath. She was through with playing anyone's games, and that included the games of any potential creep who was lurking within her apartment. She had just lost one home, she would not lose another so soon. 

She stalked down the hall until she had reached the living room. Then, with her back turned towards the front door, She raised her arms. Immediately, every inch of the apartment had been cast within a red, fiery silhouette. 

It pooled outwards from the palms of Wanda's open hands like blood, until finally, it had stretched beyond her field of vision. Then, Wanda closed her eyes. She allowed her telekinetic abilities to guide her through the apartment, assessing every nook, cranny and object within its four walls. The Witch frowned with concentration. Try as she might, she couldn't find a single unfamiliar presence, or a single object out of place.

Eventually, after having searched as thoroughly as she could, Wanda sighed. 

'Shit,' 

She allowed her arms to drop back down to her sides as she opened her eyes. Wanda watched as, slowly, the red silhouette that had engulfed everything began to fizzle out like static until it had completely vanished. Then, she flexed her fingers, as if to fend off the stinging that had begun to bloom beneath her skin from the use of her power.

 **Maybe I am hallucinating.**

Just as she wondered this, a loud, prolonged growling noise came from her stomach. Wanda cringed slightly at first, but then, allowed a soft, bemused chuckle to pass her lips.

**… or, maybe I'm just hungry.**

She shook her head at her own paranoia. Then, after a moment's hesitation, she began to walk away from the front door. It was only once she had made her way through the kitchenette and to the fridge, that Wanda remembered her dire lack of supplies. Or rather, she was made aware of her dire lack of supplies, once she had opened up the refrigerator to be met with nothing but a single tub of chocolate and fudge ice cream.

'Ah…' she murmured to herself, 'ice cream for breakfast it is, then.'


End file.
